The Last Full Measure
by DizzyDrea
Summary: Never forget what they have done. Carry in your hearts the sacrifice they made. Fight well the battles that still remain, that your cause will not be diminished by their loss. If you do this, they will have died well.
1. Part 1

Title: The Last Full Measure  
>Author: DizzyDrea<br>Summary: Never forget what they have done. Carry in your hearts the sacrifice they made. Fight well the battles that still remain, that your cause will not be diminished by their loss. If you do this, they will have died well.  
>Rating: T for conversations on death<br>Spoilers: Set in Season 7, but no particular references to episodes  
>Author's Notes: This story was inspired by the pictures recently released by the Pentagon of our soldiers—God rest their souls—as they made their final journey home. The controversy over whether or not to release pictures of the fallen in flag-draped caskets rages on. This is my way of reminding everyone that each one of those caskets holds someone's father or mother, brother or sister, son or daughter, husband, wife, friend. May we honor them with how we treat them after they've given their lives for us.<br>Disclaimer: Stargate and all its particulars are the property of MGM, Gekko, Double Secret, Acme Shark and anyone else not mentioned here who owns a piece of this enterprise. This story was written for fun and not profit. All original characters and situations are the property of the author.

AN 4/27/11: I wrote this story back in 2009, at the height of the controversy over the release of the photos of our servicemen and women making their final journey home. I felt strongly then, and still do, that the families should have the last word on whether or not they share their grief with the world. Regardless, please remember these brave men and women, not just on Memorial Day, but every day. And resolve to live your life to its fullest, so that their sacrifice will have meaning.

~&O&~

The shrieking alarm had finally stopped and in its place, silence filled the gate room. SG-1 strode down the ramp and joined General Hammond at the bottom, each one looking drawn and haggard.

Behind them, emerging one at a time from the event horizon, three caskets draped in fine white silk descended the ramp. Each was carried by four men, dressed in the finest armor anyone had ever seen. Fine shimmering silk in rich blue was covered by expertly tooled leather armor, studded with rivets and intricately embroidered in silver thread. Each man carried a sword belted to his side, etched and gleaming in the harsh fluorescent light, and a knife equally as intricately etched secured at his waist.

Behind each of the caskets walked a man in simple white robes belted with sashes of the same rich blue, head down, hands pressed together in a prayerful gesture, whispering benedictions over the caskets—men of faith and not of war. All the men—both the priests and the warriors—were similar in appearance, tall, with long dark hair pulled neatly back into ponytails at the nape of the neck, with dark eyes and fine features.

The procession reached the bottom of the ramp, and the warriors, under the watchful eyes of the priests arranged each casket side by side in the gate room behind where Hammond and SG-1 remained standing. The pall bearers lowered each casket to a waiting cart, then stood at attention beside them facing the gate as the priests stepped behind the caskets and continued with their duties.

Finally, the last member of the procession strode down the ramp. He was dressed in the same simple robes as the other men, though his were a rich black shot through with silver embroidery, belted with a white sash and topped by the same intricately woven armor. He stopped at the bottom of the ramp, hands clasped behind his back in a parade rest pose, eyes forward and unseeing. He, too, had a sword and knife of similar quality belted to his waist, and carried a regal air that identified him as the highest ranking member of the cortege.

Hammond turned in a circle, taking in the transformation of his gate room. The warriors stood at attention, as if guarding the caskets. His own security force stood at attention behind them, rifles at their sides out of respect for the fallen men. The room held a somber silence as the full impact of the moment hit each person in attendance.

"SG-1, what's going on here?" Hammond asked quietly, turning back to the team.

"The Jem feel responsible for the deaths of SG-9, sir," Colonel Jack O'Neill said. "They wouldn't let us return without the honor guard."

"It wasn't necessary," Hammond said.

"Excuse me, sir, but I think it was," Doctor Daniel Jackson said.

"Why?" Hammond asked, turning his attention to the archeologist.

"Sir, the P'Jem are a militaristic society, much like the Samurai of our history," Major Sam Carter said. "The honor guard is part of that tradition."

"I'm aware of that," Hammond said.

"They feel responsible, sir," Daniel said, filling in what Sam hadn't said. "They say the Pao acted without honor when they attacked the encampment during the negotiations, and that's why our men are dead."

"It wasn't their fault the Pao attacked," Hammond said, pointing out the truth even though he knew it wouldn't matter.

"I know," Daniel said, hand fluttering in front of him, "but they still feel responsible. Our safety was their responsibility. They feel the need to honor our men for their sacrifice. They feel it's the least they can do."

"The Jem have acted with honor in this, General Hammond," Teal'c said. "I believe we should do the same."

"I see," Hammond said. Glancing around the gate room once more, he asked, "How long will the Jem be our guests?"

"Until after the funeral services," Jack said, wincing slightly at Hammond's surprised reaction.

"Very well, I'll have quarters prepared for their delegation."

"That won't be necessary, sir," Daniel said, giving his own wince, knowing that the General wouldn't like what was coming. "They've prepared the bodies according to P'Jem funerary traditions, and part of that tradition is that a warrior is to be guarded at all times until his soul is released by his family into the afterlife."

Hammond sighed. "Very well," he said, though it was clear he wasn't happy. "What about him?" he asked, indicating the man currently standing at the foot of the ramp.

"Master Jinno was the head of the security delegation," Jack said. "He's okay."

"He feels as though it's his own personal honor at stake, sir," Daniel said.

"We've tried explaining it to him, but it's like he needs to do some sort of penance," Sam said, distress clear in her voice.

Daniel glanced back at the man behind him. "He'd like to speak at the funeral, if he's allowed to."

He knew Jinno, had gotten to know him during the past few days, and knew him to be an honorable man, as all P'Jem were. Their code of honor had developed as a direct result of their dealings with the Goa'uld, and the lack of honor with which they conduct themselves. The two tribes of the P'Jem homeworld, Pao and Jem, had a long history alternating cooperation and enmity, but Jinno had said that they were in a period of closer cooperation, and he saw this treaty with Earth as a way to move forward into closer ties with the Pao. In addition to deposits of naquadah, the P'Jem had metallurgical advancements that would be of great value to Earth, and Jinno was eager to learn more about the original home of his ancestors.

However, there were factions of the Pao that were suspicious of the outsiders, as SG-1 and 9 had been called. Daniel had worked hard to secure the trust of both tribes before the negotiations began, but the fact that the SG teams were staying in the Jem encampment had only made the situation worse. So when the Pao faction attacked the negotiations, it had caught everyone off guard, including SG-1. They had been asked to return with the SGC's diplomatic team, SG-9, because the P'Jem had gotten to know and trust Jack O'Neill and his companions. Believing that the negotiations would proceed peacefully, none of them had been especially concerned, a feeling they now all regretted.

"Offer him guest quarters, Doctor Jackson," Hammond said gently, bringing Daniel's thoughts back to the here and now. "Tell him it would be an honor to have him speak. I'll have a storage room converted so we can move the caskets until the service."

With that, Hammond turned and left the room.

~&O&~

George Hammond sat alone in his office later that day, staring at the page in front of him, blank save for the Air Force logo at the top. The stark white of the paper seemed to be mocking him. What could he write that would bring peace to the families of the SG-9 team members that had been lost? He couldn't tell them anything about the mission they were on, save that it had been important. He couldn't tell them how each one of them had fought bravely at the side of the P'Jem as the camp was attacked. All he could write would be platitudes and empty assurances.

It was the part of his job he hated the most. He'd had to write far too many of these letters over the years; even more since he'd taken command of the SGC. He felt each loss deeply, personally. It was as though a part of his own heart was being ripped out, and the pain only got worse as the years passed.

And what about the lone surviving team member? Captain John Partland had only been with SG-9 for about six months. He was the son of missionaries, well versed in the art of blending into foreign cultures and adept at making friends of enemies. It was what made him such a good fit on the SGC's top negotiating team. They were never supposed to see action, though.

Despite the fact that all four of the members of SG-9 were Air Force personnel, they were supposed to come in after the hostilities and forge peace, not find themselves in the middle of a firefight. But Hammond had heard during the debriefing that Captain Partland and his teammates had conducted themselves well during the fight; had held their own. It had been a small group of Pao that had flanked them before anyone had realized it, taking out three members of SG-9 before they were killed. He knew that the Captain would be blaming himself for not being able to stop it, regardless of whether he could have.

That was the other part of the job Hammond hated. How did you help someone let go of the survivor's guilt and become a contributing member of the team again? Though the truth of the matter was that Captain Partland couldn't have done anything to stop what had happened, he wouldn't see it that way for a long time, if ever. There would always be a small voice in the back of his mind asking what more he could have done, what he could have done differently. The medical teams of the SGC would work hard to make sure he survived his injuries, but how well he healed mentally and emotionally would really all depended on him.

Hammond sighed and picked up his pen, intent on writing something to the grieving families. A knock at his door startled him, stopping him just before he'd put pen to paper.

"Come," he called.

The door swung open to reveal Master Jinno, standing rigidly, hands clasped behind his back.

"General Hammond," he said, "forgive my intrusion."

"It's alright," Hammond said, rising to greet his visitor. "Please, come in."

Jinno entered the office, standing at attention in front of Hammond's desk. The general looked closely at his visitor. He could see pain in that man's face, despite the obvious effort to hide it. He knew how Jinno felt, because he was struggling with pain of his own.

"Please, sit down," Hammond said gently, indicating the chair in front of his desk as he retook his own seat.

Jinno seemed to grow more rigid for the barest of moments, then deflated slightly and took a seat. He clasped his hands in his lap, and the general noticed the sheaf of papers he was clutching.

"What can I do for you, Master Jinno?" he asked.

Jinno took a deep, steadying breath. "With Doctor Jackson's assistance, I have written letters to the families of the fallen ones," he told the general, holding out the papers for the other man to take. "The words are not much, and they cannot bring back those who were lost, but I hope that they will bring some comfort."

Hammond took the papers, glancing down at the pages. There were three, all written in a flowing hand on fine parchment paper. He felt the tears he'd been keeping at bay threaten to fall. It was an incredible gesture, but one he was sorry would be wasted. He simply couldn't allow them to be passed on to the families, for security reasons.

"Master Jinno, I can't—" he began, only to be cut off by the other man.

"Doctor Jackson has explained that the people of your world do not know of the Stargate," he said, sorrow heavy in his tone. "I have been careful not to say anything that would reveal where or how these men were killed. But it is my responsibility to write to the families. It was under my protection that they were lost."

Hammond sighed, looking again at the man seated before him. His posture was rigid, his face pinched and drawn. He knew Master Jinno would likely feel the pain of these events for a long time. And it would take even longer for him to forgive himself, if he ever did. Glancing down at the papers in his hand, he had another thought. Selfish as it may seem, Hammond knew that if he could send these letters to the families, he wouldn't have to write letters of his own. Well, that wasn't strictly true. Even if he did send these letters, he'd probably also send a short note of his own, expressing his deep sorrow.

Rousing from his wandering thoughts, he looked back at Jinno, waiting patiently for Hammond to make a decision. His resolve cracking, the general offered a compromise.

"Let me read through these letters," Hammond said. "If I find that there's nothing of a classified nature revealed in them, I'll consider sending them to the families."

Jinno seemed to relax ever so slightly. "Thank you, General Hammond," he said. "That is all I ask."

Jinno stood, intending to leave the general to his task. Hammond rose as well and moved around the desk, stopping the other man with a hand to his shoulder. Though Jinno towered over the general, Hammond met his eyes, one soldier to another.

"Thank you, Master Jinno, for your care of my men," he said. "I and their families are grateful that they've been returned to us. I only wish we could have met under better circumstances."

Jinno turned and faced the general. He bowed slightly, then extended his hand, clasping the general's by the forearm in a warrior's handshake. "I, too, am sorry that our meeting could not be under better circumstances, but no thanks is necessary. Among the P'Jem, a fallen warrior is a hero and is treated as such. It was the least we could do. I only hope this will not affect the treaty between our two peoples. I believe we have much to learn from each other."

Hammond nodded his head, his hand clasping Jinno's forearm even tighter before letting go. "I'll be recommending to my superiors that the negotiations resume at the appropriate time. I've also informed them of your honorable actions, and I'll tell them about these letters as well. You've done yourself proud, son, and I'll make sure everyone knows that."

"Thank you, General Hammond," Jinno said, bowing once again before retreating out the door.

Hammond watched him go, the SF guarding him trailing behind like a faithful companion. He was impressed and deeply moved by Master Jinno's gesture as well as his words. The man was as honorable as they came, and Hammond hoped that these events didn't destroy him. Returning to his desk, he took up the letters and set about reading them through as he'd told Jinno he would.

~&O&~


	2. Part 2

Notes and disclaimer in Part 1...

~&O&~

The next morning, Master Jinno stood in the doorway, scanning the room's occupants, looking for a familiar face. The beds that lined the walls of the infirmary were not all occupied, but Jinno didn't know which held the man he'd come to see.

A nurse approached him where he stood, turning a friendly smile to him. "May I help you, sir?"

"I am seeking Captain Partland," he said.

Turning, she indicated a bed at the far end of the room. Jinno bowed his gratitude and made his way to the injured man.

He stopped next to the bed and regarded the sleeping man. He was young and strong, but even Jinno could see the struggle for life. His short dark hair stood out starkly against his pale skin, and there was a sheen of perspiration coating his features. He was a tall man, robust and proud, but his injuries seemed to have shrunken him, for the man before him appeared frail and weak.

Though his injuries were no longer life threatening, it was by no means a certainty that the man would survive, despite his youth and vigor. Much depended on his attitude during recovery, as Jinno well knew. He had hoped to find the officer awake so that he could talk to him, but it appeared that wouldn't be possible. Just then, though, the Captain stirred, opening his eyes to find the P'Jem warrior staring down at him.

"Master Jinno," he said, somewhat surprised. "I didn't know you were here."

"I came to make sure your injuries were healing," Jinno said. "And to see to your friends."

Partland's blue-grey eyes clouded over for a moment, and he fidgeted painfully under the covers. "I'm sure the Major would have been pleased," he said quietly.

"Your Major Danvers was a man of honor and integrity," Jinno said. "We escorted him and the others home with full honors."

The Captain's eyes widened slightly at that. The priority for the SG teams would have been to get the injured home first, and then tend to the dead. He knew that the P'Jem were warriors steeped in a military culture rarely seen outside Earth's history. For them to accord outsiders with the funerary rituals of their own people was an incredible honor.

"Thank you, Master Jinno," he said, looking up into the kind eyes of the man before him. "But it wasn't necessary. We didn't do anything special."

"On the contrary," Jinno said. "You and your teammates fought with great skill side by side with my best warriors. You have earned the honors we bestow on you."

Partland winced and looked away. "The others may have, but I sure didn't."

"It is you who is mistaken, Captain," Jinno said gently. "I saw you fight just as fiercely as your companions. You did not back down. It is more than I can say of many warriors I have done battle with."

Partland squeezed his eyes shut. "But it wasn't enough," he whispered. He'd been unconscious when they'd brought him through the gate, but he knew that he had been the only one of his team to survive, and the guilt was crushing him.

Jinno reached down and laid a hand carefully on the other man's shoulder. When the Captain's pain-filled eyes rose to meet his, he spoke quietly.

"You bear no guilt for living when the others did not." Partland slammed his eyes shut once more, squeezing them closed as if trying to banish images that simply wouldn't go away. When he opened them again, Jinno was still in the same place, hand on his shoulder, waiting patiently.

"A warrior's strength lies in accepting that each battle may be his last," Jinno said, tenderness in his voice. "When he sheds his fear of dying, death is no longer his master. He can revel in each day, make each one a celebration, and go into battle knowing that he has no regrets and so will hold nothing back. If you believe this to be true of your teammates, then you must not mourn their passing. Instead, you must celebrate their days, knowing that they faced battle with a clear conscience and a full heart. And you must live your life in the same way, in order to honor the men that they were. Can you do that?"

Partland swallowed visibly. "I think so, sir," he said.

"Good," Jinno said, nodding. "Then you are the man I believe you to be." Straightening to his full height, he gazed down at the younger man. "Never forget them," he advised the Captain, "and never forget to remind others of the way they lived their lives. This will be their legacy, carried by you to those who come after."

"I promise, Master Jinno," Partland said solemnly.

Jinno nodded. "Now, rest and heal. You have many more battles ahead and you cannot fight them from the comfort of a hospital bed."

Partland smiled faintly and nodded, feeling spent from the conversation. His eyes fell closed, Jinno standing quietly by as he drifted off to sleep.

Once the younger man was safely resting, Jinno relaxed some, his shoulders sagging visibly from the weight he still carried. Sparing one last glance at the man in the bed, he took a deep breath and walked from the room, striding with purpose into the corridor outside the infirmary.

"That was a nice thing you did back there."

Stopping short, Jinno spun around and searched for the source of the voice. There, leaning casually against the wall outside the infirmary, stood the commander of SG-1, dressed in green utilities, but still appearing every bit the tough commander he had come to know. Jinno softened his stance, clasping his hands behind his back.

"I said only what was necessary."

"Still," Jack O'Neill said, pushing himself off the wall and stuffing his hands into his pockets. "He needed to hear it."

"Yes, he did," Jinno agreed. "The living carry a heavy burden, and the survivors heaviest of all. He is young; he will learn. Until he does, it is left to men such as us to remind him."

"You didn't have to do this," Jack said, and Jinno knew he was speaking of more than just his visit with the Captain.

"His injuries and the deaths of his companions occurred on my watch. They earned the honors we have granted them by their actions," Jinno said, his posture stiffening slightly. "If it had been you, would you not have felt the burden?"

Jack sighed. "Yes, I would have. I still do. I was the senior officer out there. He was under my command, and he was injured and the rest of his team killed on my watch."

Jinno inclined his head in a subtle gesture of acceptance. "My words are no less true for you than they are for him."

"Yeah," Jack said, wincing.

"And still you carry the burden," Jinno said, eyes narrowing as he contemplated the man before him.

"So do you," Jack observed.

"I fear that for men like us, we will never be free of the burden we carry," Jinno said. "But we will still carry on, to honor those we have lost."

"Wise words, Master Jinno," Jack said, his respect for the other man rising another notch.

Jinno once more inclined his head in acceptance, and then turned and strode down the corridor, his escort trailing behind him. A ghost of a smile flitted across Jack's face as he watched the other man go. He'd liked Jinno from the moment they'd met. They understood each other, both warriors that had seen and done much. And more than anything, he respected the man that Jinno had become as a result of the things he'd lived through, a respect that grew each time they met.

Jack's smile disappeared as quickly as it came. He'd come to see the young Captain for the same reason, and there was no putting off the visit. Turning, he headed for the infirmary and the bed in the far corner, intent on sharing his own words of wisdom with a troubled soul.

~&O&~

Daniel walked into the base library that afternoon, wearing his usual green utilities, head down and totally focused on the papers in his hand. He was working on a translation for another SG team, and found that the reference book he needed was not one in his collection and hadn't been uploaded into the base computer index either. He crossed the room and scanned the shelf, quickly finding what he was looking for.

Tucking the book under his arm, he turned and headed for the door and his office when he caught sight of a familiar form. Across the room, perusing a shelf of books, was Master Jinno, still dressed in his formal armor, though the sword and knife had been left behind. Daniel crossed to stand beside him, taking note of the tension still radiating from the man.

"I find I am at a loss for words," Jinno said when Daniel drew near, confirming that he had indeed noted the arrival of his companion. "Your Sergeant Siler suggested I come here for inspiration."

Daniel nodded. "There are lots of good references here," he said.

Jinno turned to face the other man. "We speak no words at P'Jem funerals. The ritual is meant to mark the passing of the warrior, nothing more," he said. "It is only after the funeral when we speak of those we have lost. And we speak only of the life they have lived. How do I speak of the sacrifice these men have made?" he asked almost absently.

"I don't know," Daniel said. "I do know it never gets any easier."

"Quite true," Jinno said, falling silent, his gaze once more returning to the books.

Daniel studied the man standing before him. Master Jinno reminded him a lot of Jack O'Neill. They were both men of honor, consummate soldiers and fiercely loyal to those they cared about. He knew this loss would haunt the man. He also understood the desire for a fitting tribute; a way to take the measure of what had happened and make sure that no one forgot the sacrifice.

Scanning the shelf they were standing in front of, Daniel reached for a slim volume. "You might start here," he told Jinno, handing him the book. "He was one of our greatest leaders at a time of great tragedy for our nation."

Jinno accepted the book with a slight nod. "Thank you, Doctor Jackson," he said, gratitude shining in his eyes.

Daniel reached out and laid his hand on Jinno's shoulder, looking up into his eyes. "No one blames you for what happened," he said, reading correctly the guilt haunting the other man's eyes. "But we all appreciate the honor you've granted us by sharing your most sacred customs with us. The people here will never forget it."

Jinno bowed slightly, accepting Daniel's words. "It is thus among allies," he said. "We must hold nothing back, but share equally in joy and sorrow."

"And so we will," Daniel said, smiling slightly at his new friend. He squeezed Jinno's shoulder gently, then took his leave.

Jinno followed Daniel's progress out of the library, then moved to the table in the center of the room to examine the book he'd been handed. He would likely need his shadow's help in reading the words, and he was not too proud to accept it. A warrior needed to know his own limitations, and though Jinno was a great warrior, even by his own world's standards, he knew scholarly work was not his strong suit.

Waving his guard to his side, he set about finding the words to honor the sacrifices made in the name of peace.

~&O&~


	3. Part 3

Notes and disclaimer in Part 1...

~&O&~

The day of the funeral dawned clear and bright. Owing to the large crowd that would be present, it was decided to hold the funeral in a large field adjacent to the parking lot on the surface, still well within the base boundary.

The funeral cortege wound its way slowly from the storage room on level seventeen to a large clearing bordered by funerary sprays of flowers, forming a large arc in the center. The priests continued their chanting, albeit louder now, their singsong voices rising in the early morning air to form a sacred chorus. No one spoke, in accordance with P'Jem tradition, not that anyone would have broken the hush that had befallen even the wildlife surrounding them.

The caskets were laid gently onto stands in front of the funeral sprays, and once again the warriors stood at attention, now facing each other over the caskets while the priests continued their chants. Slowly, and with great precision, each of the four warriors at each of the caskets removed their gloves and tucked them into the sash at their waist. In precise union, each man reached for and unsheathed his knife, held his hand out over the casket and drew the blade across his palm.

The assembled crowd of SGC personnel stood at attention, every one sporting the dress uniforms of their particular branch of the military, their eyes riveted on the proceedings. Slight gasps could be heard from some in the crowd, including Captain Partland, who was seated in a wheelchair at the front. He had insisted that he not miss the P'Jem funerary rituals, and so Doctor Frasier had relented, but only as long as it took to attend the funeral and no longer.

Eyes riveted now, he and the rest of the SGC personnel watched as the P'Jem warriors squeezed their hands into fists over the white silk, large drops of crimson blood spattering on the pristine fabric. The priests chanted louder now, the sound filling the silence of the clearing. Then, the warriors withdrew their hands, returning their knives to their sheaths and adopting a pose of rigid attention.

All at once, the chanting ceased, and the warriors dropped to one knee beside the caskets. Suddenly, a great roar of sorrow lifted from the warriors, as they turned their faces to the sky, hands fisted at their sides. Then, all was silent.

No one moved for long moments, whether from shock or long tradition they didn't know. It seemed no one wanted to break the mood that had befallen the clearing. Finally, the warriors rose to their feet, once more standing at attention as Master Jinno emerged from the crowd and stood at the end of the row of caskets.

"It is not our custom to speak of the dead," he said, his clear voice carrying easily in the early morning air. "We of the P'Jem speak only of the life lived, and not the death, so that we may never forget our brothers as they were in life. It is their courage, the way in which they faced each day anew that we must remember."

His eyes scanned the crowd, coming to rest on each familiar face. He had gotten to know these men and women during his time among them. General Hammond. Colonel O'Neill. Major Carter. Teal'c. Daniel Jackson. They were a people of honor, and he knew they were grateful for the honor he and his men had bestowed on them. He only hoped his words today helped to begin the healing he knew they would need.

His gaze finally rested on Captain Partland, whose pained expression had softened somewhat in the days since his return. "A wise man among your people had this once to say: 'The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain.'

"It is a rare thing to find such a kinship as we of the P'Jem have found with you," he continued. "Your men fought bravely, and without regard to their own safety. Major Harlan Danvers, Lieutenant Benjamin Daily and Sergeant Cole Blackford have earned their place as heroes among your people, though the world you live in will never know it.

"But you will know. And this you must do: never forget what they have done. Carry in your hearts the sacrifice they made. Resolve to live your life so as to be worthy of being called their friends. And fight well the battles that still remain, that your cause will not be diminished by their loss. If you do this, they will have died well."

Jinno fell silent then, closed his eyes and bowed his head. Then slowly, he lifted his face to the sky and began to chant, hands rising in benediction, the priests and the other warriors joining in, lifting a sweet chorus to the heavens. Then one by one, the voices dropped as the souls of the men of SG-9 were sent on their way. Finally, Jinno's voice was the only one left, and then his, too faded away.

The silence in the clearing was palpable. No one moved, even to breath. Jinno lowered his hands and stepped away from the caskets as the warriors all slowly pulled their gloves back over their hands, discreetly tucking a cloth into the palm to stanch the bleeding. They then turned as one and strode away from the caskets to stand a short distance away, at parade rest now that their duties were done. The priests joined them moments later, and the spell was broken.

The crowd began to disburse then, Doctor Frasier leading the way with her orderly pushing Captain Partland's wheelchair right behind her. Everyone spoke in hushed voices, as if loath to break the silence with inappropriate talk. The SFs in attendance took the funeral sprays and placed them in front of the caskets, to mark the end of the ritual.

Jinno crossed the clearing, nodding to those who greeted him or offered thanks for his words. He saw Teal'c and Major Carter standing away from the crowd, and moved in their direction.

"Master Jinno," Teal'c said, offering a deep bow. "Your words were well spoken."

"Thank you, Teal'c," Jinno said. "This Abraham Lincoln was a wise man. Doctor Jackson helped me to find his words. I found them to be quite appropriate."

"Indeed," Teal'c said. He stepped forward and grasped Jinno in a warrior's handshake.

Jinno accepted the other man's grasp, and the two men locked gazes, an entire conversation passing between them. These two, more than the others, understood each other. Knew what sacrifice meant. Knew how best to honor their fallen friends. Jinno nodded his head solemnly and Teal'c returned the gesture.

"I look forward to meeting again under more pleasant circumstances," Jinno said.

"As do I," Teal'c said. He nodded once more to Jinno, then turned and did the same to Sam as he departed.

Jinno turned to Sam, seeing the sorrow and fatigue in her eyes. She hid it well, but he knew these events had affected her.

"I thought I recognized the speech," Sam said, looking up at Jinno. "The Gettysburg Address. We studied it in school."

"This time in your history was one filled with great sorrow," Jinno said. "The words are timeless, though, and serve well as a reminder that we bear responsibilities once the battle is won."

"Yes," Sam agreed.

She fell silent, scanning the crowd as they made their way back to the base. Jinno extended his arm, indicating she should follow the others, then fell into step beside her.

"You remind me greatly of our women," Jinno said, contemplating the woman beside him.

"Really?" Sam asked, surprised.

She knew from her time on the P'Jem homeworld that the women of the tribes were skilled warriors, just as fierce and powerful as the men. But while the men grew their hair long, as a sign of status, the women kept theirs cropped short as a practical consideration. They were tall and lithe, and the perfect complement to the men. To be compared to them was an honor Sam wouldn't take lightly.

Jinno smiled slightly at her surprise. "Among my people, it is the women who feel emotion most deeply, though they are fine warriors in their own right. It is they who help us to find balance, to celebrate joy and mourn sorrows. Without them, we would become hardened to the horrors of battle, and we would not be able to let go the pain."

Sam sighed heavily. "Unfortunately, I don't have the luxury of showing my emotions," she said quietly, sorrow in her voice.

Jinno stopped, pulling Sam to a halt beside him. "There is where you are wrong, Major Carter," he said. "It is our differences—those between the men and the women of my people—that make us stronger. One balances the other. And thus is completed the circle."

"It's harder here for women," she said, trying to explain. "We have to fight to be seen as equals. Showing emotion makes us look weak. And weak people can't be relied upon."

"I do not believe Colonel O'Neill would share your opinion," Jinno said. "He treats you as an equal."

"He's different," she said.

"No, he is wise. He sees the need for the balance you bring to your team," he said. "Do not let your differences be the thing that divides you. Rather, use your uniqueness to help your team. Use who you are and what you can do to add strength to the whole." He paused, looking deep into her eyes. "Be who you are, and all your lives will be richer for it."

When she didn't speak, he reached out a hand, and laid it on her shoulder. "There is still much healing to be done," he said. "Only you can help those you care about most to move on from this moment. Share with them your strength. Mourn with them the losses. You will find the joy in life once more, if you search for it together."

It was so much like what her father had always told her that she couldn't help but smile. "Thank you, Master Jinno. I think I needed to hear that."

Jinno smiled as well. "Good."

Sam turned and resumed walking towards the blast doors. "It won't be easy," she said, knowing that they would all be beating themselves up over these events for a long time to come.

"As your Doctor Jackson reminded me only yesterday, it never is," he replied. "But I have learned that this journey is well worth the sacrifices."

"As Teal'c would say, 'Indeed'," Sam said, a teasing glint in her eye.

Jinno laughed, then, long and loud, and Sam joined him. He had noticed that this seemed to be Teal'c's favorite expression, and that whenever he used it, it never failed to garner a reaction from his teammates. He glanced sidelong at his companion. Her face was flushed, and there was a sparkle in her eyes that hadn't been there a moment ago. Her sorrow had seemed to drag her down, but it appeared to be lifting, and for that he was glad.

As the laughter began to fade, Sam realized she felt lighter somehow. Perhaps someone giving her permission to have feelings made a difference after all. She knew it wouldn't be easy to get over what had happened, but now she had more confidence that they could. Flashing a grateful smile at Master Jinno, she followed him back into the base.

~&O&~

The Jem priests walked into the gateroom single file, followed by the Jem warriors striding two by two, the blue shimmer of the open wormhole beckoning them home. Master Jinno followed last of all, pausing just inside the gateroom as his companions moved up the ramp and into the event horizon. When the last of the warriors had passed through, his attention turned to the members of SG-1 and General Hammond, waiting for him at the foot of the ramp.

He noticed Captain Partland, sitting in his wheelchair near the others, still in his dress uniform from the funeral that morning. Moving to stand in front of the young man, he crouched down and reached his hand out. Partland took it, and the two shared a look.

"You will remember what I have said?" Jinno asked gently.

Partland nodded. "I promise."

Jinno nodded, then rose and turned to face the rest. Extending his hand, he grasped Hammond in a warrior's handshake. "General Hammond," he addressed the older man, standing to the far right of the group. "It has been an honor to meet you. I look forward to the continued cooperation of our two peoples."

Hammond accepted the handshake, affording his guest a brief smile. "It was our pleasure to host you and your men. We'll be in contact with you in the next week or so to schedule a return to the negotiations."

"Thank you," Jinno said, smiling at the news. "That is good to hear."

He turned to Teal'c, standing to the General's right, and clasped his outstretched hand. "Teal'c, I wish you well in your continued fight against the Goa'uld."

Teal'c bowed slightly. "And I you as you work to unite your people. The P'Jem are proud warriors; I would gladly fight by your side, should the need arise."

"And I would gladly accept, though you will forgive me if I wish there would never be a need," Jinno said.

Teal'c gave a faint smile, and bowed his head slighty. Jinno returned the gesture, then released the man and moved on.

"Doctor Jackson," Jinno said as he was clasped in a firm handshake. "It is rare to find a man who is both scholar and warrior. You inhabit both worlds easily. I look forward to our continued association, so that I may also learn this skill."

"Thank you, Master Jinno," Daniel said, blushing slightly.

"And you, Major Carter," Jinno said, turning to the sole woman in the room. "You also have both the scholar and warrior in you. You are a force to be reckoned with."

Sam smiled at the compliment. From beside her, she heard Colonel O'Neill's muttered "Oy" and blushed.

"I'm honored, Master Jinno," she said, holding out her hand. Jinno grasped it and held her in a tight grip, one warrior to another. Then he bowed low, touching her hand to his forehead in a gesture of deep respect and affection. Sam's face bloomed crimson, but Jinno only smiled back.

At last he turned his attention to the man standing at the foot of the ramp. "Colonel O'Neill. Your people are brave and wise. It is an honor for the P'Jem to be allied with you."

"The honor is ours, Master Jinno," Jack said, extending his hand to the other man. They grasped each other in the warrior's way, each man looking deeply into the other's eyes. They must have liked what they saw, because each man offered the other a nod of the head. Jack's mouth turned up in a slight smile, causing an answering twinkle in Jinno's eyes.

"When next you return to the P'Jem to begin again the negotiations, you will bring some of your men," Jinno said. "It will be my pleasure to teach them P'Jem fighting techniques. They are not often shared with outsiders, but perhaps after these events, you are not so much the outsiders anymore."

"We would be honored," Jack said.

Jinno nodded once, then turned and stepped up onto the ramp. He turned to face the group, clasped his right hand into a fist and placed it against the open palm of his left, bowing low over his hands in a gesture of respect and honor. When he rose, he let his hands fall back to his sides and regarded the group.

"I thank you, on behalf of my people, for the hospitality you have shown us," he said. "I look forward to our next meeting, and the opportunity to begin anew."

And with that, he turned and strode up the ramp towards the waiting wormhole. He had his own wounded and dead to attend to, and the time had long since passed for him to do it. He paused briefly at the top of the ramp, turning to once again regard the men and women of the SGC. They were proud, capable warriors, and he looked forward to a continued association with them. For the first time in days, he felt the tug of hope on his heart. Smiling briefly at his hosts, he nodded once, then stepped through the event horizon.

The wormhole dissipated and the room was once more cast in a grey glow. One by one the people in the gateroom slipped away. None would forget Master Jinno and his brief visit. His wise words and gentle manner had been a balm to the souls of the SGC personnel. The time for mourning had passed, though, and each one was determined to take his words to heart: to get on with the business of the SGC and make sure that the sacrifices of their teammates and friends would be remembered, and counted as milestones on the road to the final victory each one now hoped was possible.

~Finis

Author's Post-script: Master Jinno led me a merry chase through the SGC in this story. I had intended to write only a scene or two to highlight the honorable rituals that surround battlefield casualties. Instead, Jinno had his own agenda and I ended up just following him around until he'd done what he came to do. And with each new scene, Jinno became a more fully realized character, instead of just the set dressing I had originally meant him to be. I guess he showed me.


End file.
